We all have bad days as moms. At the end of any given day, I can easily tick off numerous ways I've messed up (my kids....), running out of fingers and toes to count on. Most of the time, I call it a successful day if they are clothed, fed, somewhat clean, happy.... And alive... We can pat ourselves on the back and congratulate each other for making it through another day.
Then are the instances when we mess up royally. We snap at our kids, say things we later need to apologize for, forget our kids at school (or wonder why they are home early, having forgotten it's only a half day...), rush through the day without reading a treasured book, forget to take time to play with our kids--you know what I'm talking about. It becomes 'one of those days.'
Oh, and then there are the times we try to "help" and just dig deeper holes, like I did....
As you know, over the past 10 months, we've lost two pets: Gretta, Noah's dog, and Sophie, my cat. That part is important to the story.
Shawn and I were taking Avery to school the other morning, Shawn having taken the day off to join us for a field trip. We passed our vet and Avery yelled, "That's where we took Fosie and Gwetta so they could go to heaven!" Oh geez.
I decided to venture into damage control territory, and just really GOT. IT. ALL. WRONG.
"Well Avery, see, sometimes we just take our pets there for shots, or to get better, or just for check ups, like when we take you to your doctor!"
I could hear Shawn yelling at me under his breath, "STOP HELPING!!! STOP!!! LEAVE IT ALONE!!!! SHUT. UP!!!!!" and giving me looks out the corner of his eye while he tried his best to stay on the road as I messed up parenting.
Naturally, when we arrived at preschool a few minutes later, Avery announced to his teacher that he's going to heaven next time he goes to his doctor.
Yeesh.... Now I have to either hope he will forget this before his next allergist visit, or figure out how to explain it to our doctor....
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Reality Check
Several months ago, Shawn and I finally came to the conclusion that yes, after a few years of going back and forth on the decision, we really do want to add another child to our family. We've told our close friends who will pray for us, Noah and Avery, and our new addition, on this journey. We've been pricing baby things again, strolling through the aisles of strollers, car seats, cribs, clothing and toys... Fantasizing about what Child #3 will be like, whether we will have Daddy's Little Princess or another prince, what the baby's personality will be like, what she or he will look like--and so on. We've been making plans to add on to the house, and pay off the Jeep so we can up-size my vehicle. If we have a girl, she's already named. A boy--well, we're hoping that if we tell God we've run out of good boys' names.... Anyway. :)
We planned to start trying this fall when the boys go back to school, and it's been a source of excitement for us. Every time we see a baby, we both crumple into gooey puddles. My friend lovingly and understandingly allows me to snuggle (and sniff) her adorable, happy seven month old. Shawn and I smile at passing babies, congratulating new moms, while cooing, ohhing and ahhing at their babies. We've watched Noah's riding instructor grow round with child, smiling, and grateful for her happiness and good health. Oh, we've got the Baby Bug bad!
Foolishly, we thought it would be easier this time. Even with my current health issues, much of it has felt under control, and we've gone along our merry way, planning and preparing. After everything we went through with Avery's conception and pregnancy, we were praying for a break on this one.
Then we hit a bump in the road. And all I want to do is cry.
My new doctor has been running many, many tests, and one of them was my progesterone level. When the results came back, she explained to me that normal for a woman my age would be 200-300. Then she showed me my level--12. That's right, TWELVE. Progesterone is the 'pregnancy hormone.' It's the one that helps you get pregnant, and stay pregnant.
Sooo..... With a level like mine, pregnancy would be a miracle. Staying pregnant would be an even bigger miracle. Both Shawn and I had some tears over that reality. It was hard to hear, especially after one miscarriage already. It's very scary. Even the mere thought itself of losing another child is painful.
The good news is my doctor said it's fixable. With proper (natural) hormone therapy and supplements, we should have me on the road to recovery within a year. That is optimistic, but possible. I have begun the therapy, so we're on our way. Another baby is still a possibility.
I'm doing my best to not see a down side to this. Okay, so it delays things for a bit. That will give us a little longer to get things in order and prepare better. Then there's the side of me that wonders if this is God telling us a third child shouldn't be an option for us, or just flat out isn't. As a Believer, I know this is all part of His plan, and it's up to me to only follow Him and wait it out while praying.
I'm not good at waiting, though. I'm impatient. I want to be better now. I don't want it to take months, a year, or more. I want it to be days, weeks. My arms ache to hold my baby, to know the child I want so badly.
This time does give me better appreciation for the two miracles I do already have. They fill my arms and my heart with love and joy. Maybe that's the point.
We planned to start trying this fall when the boys go back to school, and it's been a source of excitement for us. Every time we see a baby, we both crumple into gooey puddles. My friend lovingly and understandingly allows me to snuggle (and sniff) her adorable, happy seven month old. Shawn and I smile at passing babies, congratulating new moms, while cooing, ohhing and ahhing at their babies. We've watched Noah's riding instructor grow round with child, smiling, and grateful for her happiness and good health. Oh, we've got the Baby Bug bad!
Foolishly, we thought it would be easier this time. Even with my current health issues, much of it has felt under control, and we've gone along our merry way, planning and preparing. After everything we went through with Avery's conception and pregnancy, we were praying for a break on this one.
Then we hit a bump in the road. And all I want to do is cry.
My new doctor has been running many, many tests, and one of them was my progesterone level. When the results came back, she explained to me that normal for a woman my age would be 200-300. Then she showed me my level--12. That's right, TWELVE. Progesterone is the 'pregnancy hormone.' It's the one that helps you get pregnant, and stay pregnant.
Sooo..... With a level like mine, pregnancy would be a miracle. Staying pregnant would be an even bigger miracle. Both Shawn and I had some tears over that reality. It was hard to hear, especially after one miscarriage already. It's very scary. Even the mere thought itself of losing another child is painful.
The good news is my doctor said it's fixable. With proper (natural) hormone therapy and supplements, we should have me on the road to recovery within a year. That is optimistic, but possible. I have begun the therapy, so we're on our way. Another baby is still a possibility.
I'm doing my best to not see a down side to this. Okay, so it delays things for a bit. That will give us a little longer to get things in order and prepare better. Then there's the side of me that wonders if this is God telling us a third child shouldn't be an option for us, or just flat out isn't. As a Believer, I know this is all part of His plan, and it's up to me to only follow Him and wait it out while praying.
I'm not good at waiting, though. I'm impatient. I want to be better now. I don't want it to take months, a year, or more. I want it to be days, weeks. My arms ache to hold my baby, to know the child I want so badly.
This time does give me better appreciation for the two miracles I do already have. They fill my arms and my heart with love and joy. Maybe that's the point.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Mother's Day
I know with a title like that, I should be reflecting on motherhood, but instead I've found myself reflecting more on my marriage, just because of how my husband 'does' Mother's Day.
Some days I don't know if I'm just plain spoiled by Shawn, or if he just "gets it." I'm thinking most likely, BOTH.
Is it my husband? Is it me? Is it us together as a couple?
Would he be this wonderful to a woman who isn't me?
Is it years of me, him and us not getting it right, and finally figuring it out?
Is it just because we've both been hurt so much by life, and by others, that we can truly appreciate each other?
These are the sorts of things I ponder.
See, I don't remember my father playing outside, or really, anywhere, with me. Even when he was home, he wasn't there, if you understand my meaning. I don't remember my parents being loving toward each other--even as a child, it looked forced to me. My father was always doing something wrong, or just wasn't doing things right (according to my mother, and the general vibe in our house). Shawn doesn't remember his father playing with him either, and domestic violence was an issue in his house growing up. Neither of us grew up with good models for marriage, or even parenthood.
"They" say that most girls marry a man who is exactly like her father. For the record, I did not. I did a complete 180. And everyday I'm grateful I did. Everyday I'm glad I married not just the opposite of my father, but Shawn. "They" also say you can tell how a man will treat his wife by how he treats his mom. And you know what? Shawn treated his mom like a queen.
This year will be our thirteenth wedding anniversary. Have we always been this way? Oh, absolutely not! It's taken us years to get here, and I know we still have further to go, more work to do. But we're headed there. Shawn appreciates me, loves me, cares for me, cherishes me--and he doesn't tell me, he shows me. As one of my best friends constantly reminds me, I'm a regular princess, and Shawn treats me as such. The poor guy canNOT say no to me. If I want something, he will beg me to not use my womanly wiles in my favor ("womanly wiles"--ha! All I ever really have to do is say "Please?"). It takes work to get to the point we're finally at, and more work to get to where we're going.
I spent this Mother's Day camping with Noah, some of his fellow Scouts, and their moms--a Mother's Day mother/son campout! Sigh. I really didn't want to go, and quite truthfully, it did not start out well. I did not want to disappoint Noah, and I knew I would be missing out on a very good moment with Noah. And as it progressed though, things went very well. I'm very proud of how mature and independent Noah was throughout the weekend. We hiked, we played wiffleball (moms won!), slept in tents (because those were actually more preferable than the cabins--ick!), pottied in disgusting bathrooms (which were actually better than the ones up the road near the cabins!), survived the boys' cooking, managed to fall asleep even though there were incredibly loud frogs (and boys), and made it through the weekend without showering. And you know what else? WE HAD FUN.
So, how did I go from my husband is great to a Mother's Day campout and back to my husband is great? Oh man, if you could only see inside my brain.... HA! Well....
Remember I said Shawn knows how to treat a woman? This is how he showed up at the campsite to pick up the Scout trailer:
Some days I don't know if I'm just plain spoiled by Shawn, or if he just "gets it." I'm thinking most likely, BOTH.
Is it my husband? Is it me? Is it us together as a couple?
Would he be this wonderful to a woman who isn't me?
Is it years of me, him and us not getting it right, and finally figuring it out?
Is it just because we've both been hurt so much by life, and by others, that we can truly appreciate each other?
These are the sorts of things I ponder.
See, I don't remember my father playing outside, or really, anywhere, with me. Even when he was home, he wasn't there, if you understand my meaning. I don't remember my parents being loving toward each other--even as a child, it looked forced to me. My father was always doing something wrong, or just wasn't doing things right (according to my mother, and the general vibe in our house). Shawn doesn't remember his father playing with him either, and domestic violence was an issue in his house growing up. Neither of us grew up with good models for marriage, or even parenthood.
"They" say that most girls marry a man who is exactly like her father. For the record, I did not. I did a complete 180. And everyday I'm grateful I did. Everyday I'm glad I married not just the opposite of my father, but Shawn. "They" also say you can tell how a man will treat his wife by how he treats his mom. And you know what? Shawn treated his mom like a queen.
This year will be our thirteenth wedding anniversary. Have we always been this way? Oh, absolutely not! It's taken us years to get here, and I know we still have further to go, more work to do. But we're headed there. Shawn appreciates me, loves me, cares for me, cherishes me--and he doesn't tell me, he shows me. As one of my best friends constantly reminds me, I'm a regular princess, and Shawn treats me as such. The poor guy canNOT say no to me. If I want something, he will beg me to not use my womanly wiles in my favor ("womanly wiles"--ha! All I ever really have to do is say "Please?"). It takes work to get to the point we're finally at, and more work to get to where we're going.
I spent this Mother's Day camping with Noah, some of his fellow Scouts, and their moms--a Mother's Day mother/son campout! Sigh. I really didn't want to go, and quite truthfully, it did not start out well. I did not want to disappoint Noah, and I knew I would be missing out on a very good moment with Noah. And as it progressed though, things went very well. I'm very proud of how mature and independent Noah was throughout the weekend. We hiked, we played wiffleball (moms won!), slept in tents (because those were actually more preferable than the cabins--ick!), pottied in disgusting bathrooms (which were actually better than the ones up the road near the cabins!), survived the boys' cooking, managed to fall asleep even though there were incredibly loud frogs (and boys), and made it through the weekend without showering. And you know what else? WE HAD FUN.So, how did I go from my husband is great to a Mother's Day campout and back to my husband is great? Oh man, if you could only see inside my brain.... HA! Well....
Remember I said Shawn knows how to treat a woman? This is how he showed up at the campsite to pick up the Scout trailer:
Yes, he arrived with flowers, and Starbucks coffee for all the moms. Ohhh, he's good! He and Avery also had a hand-painted "#1 Mom" t-shirt for me. Once we got home, it was "Mom's Choice" for the rest of the day. We played with the kids in the backyard, he cleaned the house for me, we had lunch at Denny's, and ice cream for dinner.
I don't have the answers to the questions above, but I do know that I've got a winner. Mother's Day was a treat for me, and it always has been. My husband knows how to treat me--a woman--and it's not just on Mother's Day. He knows how to treat me as his wife, and the mother of his children, every day of the year (okay, just so he doesn't sound 100% golden, we do have our arguments!).
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